


day off

by aah_bluejay



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M, Shiro (Voltron) is a Mess, let Shiro rest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-14 02:02:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10526556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aah_bluejay/pseuds/aah_bluejay
Summary: Maybe if Shiro wasn’t so tired, he would have remembered that this particular store didn’t reallyhaveany mannequins, or he might have noticed that the mannequin seemed to bebreathing. But as it was, Shiro only had time to register the softness of the hair (just as silky as he had imagined it to be) and the warmth of the neck (wait, warmth?) before he felt something kick his feet out from under him and he thudded unceremoniously to the floor (ouch).





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This fic was inspired by this post by tender-eros on tumblr:  
> https://tender-eros.tumblr.com/post/158467090084/i-remember-reading-smth-about-a-girl-mistaking-a
> 
> This is my first fic on ao3 -- hope you all enjoy!

“ _No_ , Shiro!”

“But, Allura—”

“I said no!”

Allura put her hands on her hips — the very image of poise — as she stared daggers at Shiro, daring the man to argue. She was the only thing standing between Shiro and the door to the building where they worked, but the heiress of the Altean family would sooner renounce her bloodline than let him get past. 

“I told you we don’t need you today! You’ve been overworking yourself way too hard, and you need to _rest!_ ”

“I’m fine, Allura, I swear—” Shiro protested, just as he felt a yawn building in his throat. He tried his best to stifle it, but when he saw the upturned corner of Allura’s mouth, he knew he had already lost.

“As your temporary boss while my father is away, Shiro, I am ordering you to take a day off,” Allura said, lifting her chin and giving her best impression of authority. Shiro knew she was being serious, but he couldn’t help but think it was pretty funny considering they were the same age, both barely out of college. Allura evidently thought it was amusing as well, as her demeanor softened. She chuckled and shook her head. “Besides, Shiro, what use to me are you as an employee if you’re falling asleep on the job?”

Now it was Shiro’s turn to laugh, putting his hands up in surrender. “So that’s your real reason you want me to rest, huh? And here I thought you actually cared about my well-being.”

Shiro stepped back just in time to avoid Allura’s swat, still laughing. The heiress settled for sticking out her tongue at him instead, before shooing him away with her hand. “Alright, Shiro, time for you to leave. I don’t want to see you again today!”

“Okay, okay, you win!” Shiro raised his prosthetic arm in a mock salute. He gave Allura one last smile before turning on his heel and walking off.

 

 

 

Shiro was tired, but not tired enough to go back home and nap. He had never been a huge fan of naps anyway — they disoriented him and made him feel like he’d wasted too much time. He ended up taking a stroll through the park, breathing in the scent of grass and enjoying the slight chill of the autumn air. When his stomach reminded Shiro of its existence, he headed to the local mall’s food court and downed a healthy helping of pasta from Voltron Café.

Wandering through the mall, Shiro hummed quietly, the tune to an old song half forgotten. He wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself; what do people usually do with days off, anyway?

He found himself in a clothing store, idly browsing through the selection. The shop was almost empty; most people were probably at work, Shiro reasoned with a slight yawn. He continued absently looking around the store, when something bright red caught his attention.

It was a motorcycle jacket — white and yellow accentuated the red, but it was the popped collar that completed the look. It seemed to be made of leather, he thought, as he got closer to the mannequin sporting it. It was quite the bold statement; Shiro didn’t think he would ever be able to pull that off, but the mannequin did pretty well, he supposed. Props to the store owner.

And was that... a mullet? The mannequin had a mullet? Shiro chuckled quietly to himself, tilting his head to the side. People were really into putting together eye-catching mannequins these days. He had to give credit to whoever made the wig, though. Each strand looked so carefully layered and realistic, and so, _so_ silky. Upon reaching the mannequin, Shiro absentmindedly stretched out a hand, gently brushing his fingers against the mannequin’s hair.

Maybe if Shiro wasn’t so tired, he would have remembered that this particular store didn’t really _have_ any mannequins, or he might have noticed that the mannequin seemed to be _breathing_. But as it was, Shiro only had time to register the softness of the hair (just as silky as he had imagined it to be) and the warmth of the neck (wait, warmth?) before he felt something kick his feet out from under him and he thudded unceremoniously to the floor (ouch).

Shiro blinked. The mannequin — no, _person_ — was almost sitting on top of him, knees on either side, pinning him to the floor. Violet eyes met Shiro’s dark grey ones, demanding an explanation. Some faraway part of Shiro’s brain is thinking that if it wasn’t for the sudden adrenaline rush, he could probably get lost in those eyes. He can feel heat starting to creep up to his face; he opens his mouth, mind racing for an apology — _wait how do I even explain this oh my god this guy is gonna kill me this is how I die_ — but all he manages to choke out is:

“You’re... you’re not a mannequin.”

Confusion washes over the other man’s face, and then — in a moment that Shiro will fondly look back on in years to come — the corners of the man’s mouth quirk slightly upwards. Suddenly, the man is laughing, practically _giggling_ , a sound so pure and _right_ that Shiro can’t help but laugh too. The man gets up and Shiro feels the weight on his body lessen and he thinks he’s probably pleased about that. The man is still laughing loudly, and brings up one gloved hand to wipe at the tears forming in his eyes. He holds out his other hand to Shiro, grasp wiry but strong, and helps the fallen man up from the floor.

Shiro is partly laughing, partly mumbling apologies, and partly trying to ignore the somersaults his stomach is doing as he gets up. He notices a beat too late that he’s still holding onto the other man’s hand, and hastily lets go. Thankfully, the stranger doesn’t seem to notice.

The laughter finally calms down, and Shiro is almost tempted to crack a joke just to make him laugh again. The man brushes away his messy bangs from his face, and shoots Shiro with a movie-star smile. Shiro feels his stomach do another flip. “You thought I was a _mannequin?_ I’ve been called a lot of things in my life, but I gotta say, that one’s a first.” The man smirked, crossing his arms in front of his chest and _oh god who allowed humans to be this adorable._ “I don’t think I’ve laughed that hard in _ages_ , jeez. To whom do I owe the honor of this accomplishment?”

Shiro snaps to attention. “Shi— I mean, Takashi Shirogane. But you can call me Shiro,” he responds, a little too quickly. “And you?”

“Me? Not a mannequin, that’s for sure,” comes the response, complete with a cocked eyebrow and eyes dancing with mirth.

Shiro can hear the blood rushing to his face again; he says a silent thank you to whatever higher being is watching over him that the store is practically empty and no one else is here to witness this.

He’s about to mumble out another litany of flustered apologies when the man waves them away, chuckling and shaking his head. “I’m just messing with you, don’t worry. I’m Keith.”

“Keith,” Shiro repeats, tasting the name on his tongue. He smiles, about to hold out his hand for a handshake, _because that’s what people do when they first meet, right, not just because they want to hold a stranger’s hand again_ , but stops and winces as a dull ache shoots up his side. He doesn’t notice the concerned look that flashes across Keith’s face. “Oof. That’s gonna be sore tomorrow.”

Keith smiles again, sheepishly this time, and Shiro curses his heart for fluttering. “Sorry about that,” Keith says, scratching the back of his head. “Reflexes.” He shrugs, like it was nothing, but Shiro notes a tinge of pride to the other man’s voice. Then, for just a moment, Keith’s confident demeanor seems to waver and he bites his lip — and then just as quickly as it came, it’s gone and Shiro is faced once more with Keith’s radiance, _wait, radiance, Shiro get yourself together_. He’s snapped out of his reverie when Keith starts talking again. “So, hey— I was just about to get lunch when a stranger suddenly touched my neck—” _is going just two minutes straight without blushing too much to ask_ “—would you like to join me? It’ll be my treat, as an apology for knocking you to the floor.”

Shiro’s mind goes blank for a split second before his thoughts are racing again. He waves his hands in front of him, sputtering, “N-no! I mean, yes! Uh—” _No, Shiro, don’t focus on how intense his eyes are, what are you doing_. Shiro clears his throat. “I mean, yes, I’d love to join you, but I think _I_ should be the one treating _you_ , since I kind of, uh, started it. By touching your neck, I mean.” _Oh god what did I just say why did that come out of my mouth just let me melt into the floor and cease to exist._

But Keith just smirks again and rolls his eyes, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “We can argue about this later, Shiro. I’m starving. Hope you’re hungry too, cause I know this really good place in the food court. Voltron Café. Know it?” Without waiting for a response, Keith starts walking towards the exit, and after a pause, _why is my body so weak all he did was say my name,_ Shiro falls into step beside him.

Shiro nods, although Keith isn't facing him. “That’s my favorite café," he says, tactfully forgetting to mention that he just ate there an hour ago. 

“Perfect,” Keith responds. Then he glances at Shiro and chuckles, the sound ringing through the air and making Shiro feel lighter. “ _God,_ I can’t believe you thought I was a _mannequin._ ”

Shiro laughs too, feeling all remaining shreds of tiredness disappearing from his body.

He would have to remember to thank Allura for forcing him to take a day off.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments are welcome <3


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